“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

I smiled at him. He smiled at me.

Rob walked in. “I have an announcement to make. Brad and I are getting a divorce.”

I knew it!

Wait… what?

They weren’t married in the first place! And I thought Rob was in love with Joe? Oh crap.

|_*_||_*_||_*_||_*_|

A door slams and I sit up. Hah, like I would ever really confess my love to Mike. I mean, I’m going to do it. Eventually. But, why do today what can be put off until tomorrow? I’m a chicken. This I know.

I get up to pull some sweats on over my boxers, and go downstairs to see what all the noise is. I hear shuffling in the kitchen and I can smell fruit. But we don’t keep fruit in this house. And Mike, Rob and I are the only ones living here…

I round the corner to the kitchen and almost walk back out. There, on nearly every counter, even on the floor, are huge brown paper bags full of… fruit, I guess. At the center counter, Mike stands, chopping oranges. There are about 5 huge bowls of strawberries, 3 of sliced oranges, and one of cherries. What the fuck?

“Umm…” his back is still to me as I walk over to some of the bags and peer inside. Strawberries. He’s beginning to scare me. “Mike?”

“Hmm?” he responds, still not turning around.

“What’s with all the fruit?”

“We have like, no healthy food in house.”

“That’s because no one in this house eats healthy food.”

“Well, we’re gonna start,” he replies, finally looking at me.

I casually walk over to him and put a strawberry on his head. “Look. A fruit salad.” I giggle.

He throws it at me but misses.

“Is that a challenge?” I question, sensing something very messy coming on.

“Maybe,” he simply, still cutting oranges. I throw another strawberry at him and it lands on his right cheek. He raises an eyebrow at me. “Sure you wanna do that?”

By now, I’ve thrown 2 more strawberries at him. Then I’m pelted with about 5 of said fruit before I even realize what’s happening. My mouth drops open. And a cherry lands in it. I run up to him a shove 2 orange slices down his shirt and squeeze the sap onto his skin. He’s going to be sticky later.

He takes orange slices and squeezes the juice onto my wonderful hair. He’s lucky I didn’t do it today. And the huge fruit fight ensues. Strawberries, oranges, and the occasional cherry fly through the air. Sometimes we made our targets, other times we were completely off.

“Why only strawberries, oranges and cherries?” I finally ask, causing him to pause his assault.

“So I can do this!” he says, shoving a strawberry in my mouth and jumping on my back.

Whoa… What the fuck? Is he-

My thoughts are interrupted as he squeezes some more orange juice into my hair. It seeps through my scalp and drips down my face some. Eww! “Get your fat ass off of me!” I yell, just as I slip on juice that was on the floor.

So we end up on the floor, him still on my back. I swear I can feel him poking me. I turn my head in an awkward position and stare at him. He’s straddling my lower back, and I can think of other things I’d like him to be straddling.

No! I tell a certain appendage to go back to sleep, but to no avail. So, yea. Now I’m hard.

He puts a cherry on his own head. “Now we’re a fruit salad.”

I roll him off me and sit up against the counter, swallowing the strawberry. “Did you just refer to us as edible items that come from trees?”

“Yep,” he laughs. “You’re just so yum. I could eat you all up.”

I stare at him, trying to judge whether he’s joking or coming onto me. Probably just the former. I say, “I know I am.” I’m so conceited.

He smirks and tries to squirt more orange juice on my head, but I hold him back and it lands on my crotch. Ah, cold, wet, nnnnooooooooooo!

I gape at him as he laughs. “That’s not funny! Now lick it off,” I joke, pointing to the wet spot.

He smiles and leans towards me. Before I can react, he’s already running his tongue up my half-erect dick through my pants and boxers.

What the fuck? Did he really just do that?

He sits up and looks shocked as well. Is it because he can tell I’m hard as hell, or is he surprised at his own actions?

I stare at him wide-eyed. We’re frozen in time until he slowly leans back down and does it again, carefully gauging my reaction. And I still can’t move.

If he didn’t know I was hard before, he definitely knows now. His tongue presses roughly up and down as I pulse with excitement.

“Mike,” I barely manage to whisper, and he sits up to look at me. Then he takes an orange slice and rubs some of the juice on my neck, licking it off sensually, “Mike,” I squeak.

“Yes, love?”

“I… I”

“What, Chester? What is it you would like?” he mumbles, rubbing his upper body against mine.

“More fruit.” Don’t ask where that came from.

He smiles while reaching up to knock a bowl of strawberries off the counter, allowing them to shower over us. I pick one up and bit a piece of it, chewing in what is supposed to be a seductive way. He doesn’t hesitate to grip the back of my neck and kiss me, his tongue pushing past my lips. He swirls it around and finally snatches the fruit from me, pulling away.

I sit in shock, replaying the past few moments in my head. He grabs my attention by putting a cherry in his mouth, daring me to steal it from him. And I do. His mouth tastes like strawberries, cherries, and something I can’t name… but is very good.

I suddenly forget the task at hand and concentrate on him, solely him. His taste; the touch of his silky tongue, which I caressed lovingly with my own; his smell, heaven smothered in fruit, that I inhale as much as I can with my face melded to his; the small sighs he lets escape that send shivers up my spine; the warmth of his arms placed around me on my still bare back, sending tingling sensations throughout my body.

He thrusts his tongue into my mouth once more, this time leaving something there as he pulls away. What the… oh, the cherry. He picks up another strawberry and tries to feed it to me.

I can think of plenty of other things I’d like in my mouth right now and fruit isn’t exactly at the top of the list.

I push his hand away and look at him. And we kiss again. This time there are no pretenses, no ulterior motives. Just he and I, knowing each other. Learning one another’s strengths and weaknesses.

“Chaz…” he whispers.

“Mmm?” I rub my cheek against his and place little kisses on his jaw.

“How long have you been… gay?” Why is he whispering?

“Ever since I can remember. Rather than hate girls as boy, I envied them. We did each other’s hair and talked about which boys in our class we were going to marry. I’ve been having boyfriends since the 4th grade. Ah, the good old days,” I sigh, remembering way back when. “Running around holding hands and corrupting the minds of innocent young boys. I grew to love touch football when I got older,” I wink at him.

He giggles. “Ok then. But how long…” he’s serious again. “How long have you…” he trails off and looks away, obviously not knowing how to word his thoughts.

“Wanted you? Been in love with you?” I finish for him.

His eyes widen but still refuse to meet mine. He nods.

I touch his chin and drag it so our eyes are level. “I’m not going to lie. I don’t really know when or how… I just know. I love you, Mike.”

He smiles and kisses me again. Not exactly the response I had wanted, but okay. His hands roam my still sticky hair, reminding me of how evil he can be. I touch his arms, lightly caressing the exposed skin, while he assaults me with rough gropes and pinches.

He toys with the drawstring of my sweats and somehow manages to get them off, along with my boxers, so that I’m half-sitting, half-lying naked on the kitchen floor. I lick my lips and watch as he removes his own clothes slowly. I begin to wonder if he usually takes this long, or if he’s just trying to torture me. It’s working.

I start to help him, trying to make the process go faster. My fingers are hooked in the elastic of his boxers and I tug them down, my hand brushing against him a little. He moans loudly and forces his body down onto mine, grinding his solid appendage against my own. He throws his head back and lets out a low growl.

Hopefully, he won’t do that again. Otherwise, we may not make it to the actual fucking part. I whimper in an effort to tell him this and he smiles, getting the message. His eyes dart around the kitchen, most likely looking for lube. But hell if I’m about to wait any longer for this.

I touch his arm, trying to get his attention. “Leave it…” I say softly.

“You sure?” he asks, concern showing in his eyes.

“Yes,” I whisper back.

He nods and moves my legs above his shoulders so that my ass is no longer touching the floor. He's on his knees, eyeing me carefully while pressing against me.

I groan, wriggling around some. "Do it," I sigh impatiently. And he does.

And it hurts. Like a bitch. I don't care how many times I've done this before. It still hurts every fucking time.

I whimper and make little weak sounds. It fucking burns! Why the fuck didn't I let him look for lube?!

I feel a slight movement. My eyes open and I see Mike, looking down at me, clearly upset. "I'm sorry." His voice is strained.

"It's fine," I lie, my voice wavering. "Move." I'm not exactly used to it, but then again I'll never be used to it.

He pulls out a little and pushes back in slowly, as if that will ease the pain. I wriggle around, trying to tell him to go faster.

"Mike," I grunt.

He speeds up some, the burning pressure in my ass still there. But on the plus side, I'm not crying.

Yet.

I look up at him and pleasure is all I can find on his face. It pretty much takes the importance from everything else. His eyes are closed, his head thrown back, and the veins in his neck are tense. I can tell he's holding back for my sake.

"Faster," I whisper, not even thinking about myself anymore.

The burning has faded and all I can see, think, feel is him. His thrusts are coming faster now and I can see even more sweat forming on his skin.

While I’m contemplating all this, I don’t even notice his hand is full of strawberries until he smears it across my chest, the juice flowing everywhere. I gasp and can’t help but moan and return the favor, only with oranges. The pain is no longer a part of my conscious thoughts and I realize that only he and I could have a fruit fight whilst having sex.

And this is about the point where I wonder if he’s done this before. It seems he’s just a little too good at this for it to be his first time. Perhaps he’s not the naive little emcee we believe him to be...

I let out a sudden scream as overwhelming pleasure rushes through my veins. No matter how many times I’ve done this, I’m never really ready for that. As I slowly bring myself down from the blinding happiness, he does it again, ripping another piercing scream from my throat.

“Mmmm....” I moan appreciatively, knowing that I can’t really do much of anything else.

“Fuck,” he groans, his eyes crossing a little with the effort. More strawberries are rained upon me and I wonder if Mike has a bit of a fruit fetish. “Ches.... ter.” It comes out as a whisper trailing into a moan.

"Harder," I say, not caring if I'm screaming.

He pushes in and out, with all his might, the fruit no longer important to either of us.

"Ugh, Mike..."

His face is the picture of beauty. He's breathing heavily and his lips are slightly parted. "Chester, I'm gonna.... I'm..."

Before he can even finish his thought, I cum. My fluids splatter onto his stomach some and all over my own, even without manipulation. I curse and yell, letting the feeling of content and fulfillment soak through my body.

He follows some time after that, and I finally feel whole. I'm his. No one else. Somewhere I belong.

And then he slowly pulls out. I nearly cry, feeling not only sore, but empty as well. He rolls off me and sets my legs down gently. We lis side by side on our backs, on the floor, breathing together.

Finally I roll onto my side and look at him. "Mike..."

Crap. I've run out of things to say. Oh well.

He takes my hand and runs his soft fingers over it. We both jump when we hear the front door open and close, followed by footsteps coming towards us.

"Hey guys," Rob says, walking into the kitchen. He grabs a bowl of strawberries and walks back out. "Later." And he's up the stairs, Joe following rather closely.

"I love you."

At this, he drops my hand and sits up."Ok," he says, getting his clothes and standing to leave.

"Mike. Where are you going?"

"Shower," he answers shortly, and leaves the room.

Well, that wasn't right.

of course there will be more.